Chapter Text
It's been hard living in Hawkins without the rest of the party.
Mike Wheeler has been spending his days locked in his bedroom, attempting to write the book that would finally reveal the truth about their childhood to the world. The childhood where scary monsters roamed in an alternate dimension, but what they really needed was each other. Family: found and biological.
He's written many other books in the meantime, but this particular one he always finds himself coming back to.
The story is hard to form for him, as there is so much to talk about in such a small number of words. Every time he feels like he's gotten somewhere, a memory hits him like a truck, and Mike realises he needs to backpedal and rewrite the past two thousand words or so.
He's gotten very far, though, the story almost coming to a close. He thought this would be the easy part, writing the final battle and then the happy endings for everybody, but so many strings were left unwound. When he sits down to write the final chapter for Dustin, he isn't really sure what he's up to aside from studying at the university library day in and day out.
He imagines Dustin will eventually be a professor wise beyond his years, but right now, there is that awkward gap in time where he is just a student trapped in the body of a young adult man. They talk sometimes, and Dustin always seems happy with his life, but Mike can't imagine still being stuck in school.
For Lucas and Max, it's easy; they're the only ones who have remained in Hawkins, so their story ended (or rather started) with being safe with each other. Mike's happy for them, he tells himself, happy that they got to live the life that they were promised as kids, together.
Through this happiness, jealousy finds a way to shine through, and that jealousy seems to interfere with his ability to form the endings for Eleven and Will.
He never got to finish his story with either of them.
Eleven was gone. Whether dead or escaped to a far-off land, she wasn't coming back. Mike thinks about where she could be now all the time, researching places that look mystical enough for her to run away to, but never conjuring up the courage to visit them, because he thinks it would somehow hurt more trying then not seeing her, rather than not trying at all.
How is he supposed to write her story when he doesn't even know how it ends?
As for Will, his story was always going to be finished outside of Hawkins. Mike knew it from the moment he became friends with the boy; there was always this air about him that demanded he would be released from the confines of small-town America, too big for something so small.
And of course, Mike was right. The moment they all graduated, Will moved to the hustle and bustle of San Francisco, deciding he enjoyed California enough in the short period of time he was there. From what Mike was told, Will found a small flat near his art school that he couldn't have been more excited to move into.
Once Will moved, Mike wanted to try to keep in contact, to not lose his best friend for the millionth time, but he'd failed once more. He and Will called every once and a while, and Will would fill him in on the excitement around his campus life.
"Everybody's so nice, it's so refreshing. You'd love it here, Mike." Will's voice chirped through the phone to Mike for the first time after the move. Mike doesn't doubt that he would love it in San Fran; at least he wouldn't feel so alone.
But there's something tying him down to Hawkins that he just can't escape, that hope that just maybe Eleven will come back for him after all this time, and he will finally be able to be happy with her, and put these complicated feelings for Will far behind him.
"I'm sure I would." He said in response. That conversation was one of the last times he ever got to hear Will's voice; just reliving that moment in his mind gives him this inescapable memory of how close they used to be.
How he would always feel like the one to be able to comfort Will when the nights were long and filled with fear, when they would sneak off in group hangouts just to talk with each other about D&D and other childish things that Will has since grown out of, when things weren't so complicated for the two of them and they could exist by each others side without the complications of adulthood weighing them down.
Mike realises he's been staring at his typewriter for half an hour without writing a word, so he figures it's a good time to get up and take a walk around the block to clear his head. He takes his glasses off and leaves them by his typewriter before leaving the room and heading downstairs. His vision has deteriorated immensely over the past few years from staring at sheets of paper and vision boards for hours at a time without taking breaks to rest his eyes, hence the thick lenses.
Mike hates his glasses. He thinks he looks like his dad in them, so he sacrifices his eyesight on the daily just so he doesn't have to bear resemblance to his father while walking around Hawkins. Mike rustles around his closet to find a coat to wear outside, trying not to look at his old grey one from back when everything was bad and good at the same time, eventually deciding on this new brown one with a dark blue inner lining.
He was out shopping with Lucas and Max, and they were urging him to buy it despite the high price tag, so now he has to make the most out of it. The door shuts behind him, and the air is warmer than he expected it to be. Summer has been around the corner for a while now, but it’s always been just cold enough outside for a coat. Not today, though, but it's too late for Mike to go back inside and put the coat away, so he just trudges onwards outside.
The heat is bearable but uncomfortable, making his skin coated with a slick layer of sweat. He wanders past the houses, around the blocks and winding roads, letting his mind wander into his memories of these streets from years ago.
Following no particular road, he finds himself outside the old Byers house, now inhabited by some other family with two kids and a dog running around aimlessly. Mike can hear their footsteps tumbling around inside the house, a wave of nostalgia hitting him from the times when he and Will used to chase each other around with fake swords and sticks, pretending to be deep in battle with one another.
Back when they had to pretend to fight.
Mike feels as though he's being a bit creepy, standing outside this family's house and gazing longingly at what used to be his second home, but the feeling won't allow him to move. His body remains paralysed, longingly searching the walls for any sign that the Byers haven't really left, and this is all a bad dream. He sees nothing, left with the feeling he's been pushing away constantly over the years.
He misses Will.
And it's not like he had no choice but to lose him; they would have been able to keep in contact just like Will has been doing with the rest of the party, so it was entirely his fault that they didn't talk anymore. He feels so stupid, his heart sinking even further in his chest as the realisation hits of how much he wishes they could start over from that swing set again, and he would never let Will get taken from him.
Mike wishes he could see him just one more time, to reach out and claim back what they once had and experience it if only for one more moment. Mike knows it wouldn't be enough, but maybe it would help him feel less alone. Will has always understood him like no other, and Mike craves to be understood like that once more.
Not just by anyone; by Will. By his best friend.
Mike's feet drag along the irritatingly hot pavement on the way home, limbs swinging dejectedly. He tries to distract himself from the thought of Will to no avail, eventually accepting the boy taking over his mind like a virus. The times when they never thought anything wrong would happen, that they could just be kids forever and sit in Mike's basement together with their bags of candy and big smiles and warm touch -
"Mike!" A voice shatters his train of thought, making him look up in surprise to be met with an orange-haired girl charging towards him and crashing into him with a giant bear hug, "We haven't seen you in a while, Wheeler. How's it going?" Mike grunts from the impact of the hug,
"God- yeah, no, I'm alright. Yeah, I'm ok, how about you two?" He stutters incoherently as Max brushes her locks to the side and pulls away, smiling. Lucas is right behind her, still catching up, an equally large smile on his face.
"We're good. Really good, actually." Lucas wraps an arm around Max's waist before whispering something in her ear. She turns to Mike and holds up her right hand, revealing a shiny new engagement ring, making Mike's face visibly light up with shock.
"Surprise!" Lucas exclaims.
"Holy shit... Holy shit! Congratulations!" Mike finds himself pulling Lucas into a tight hug, laughing along with the two of them while fumbling to understand, "When- where- how long ago d-did this happen?"
"Lucas proposed a few weeks ago. And I obviously said yes." Max chimes in, giddily dancing back and forth on her toes, "As you can tell."
"That's amazing, I'm so happy for you two! So, when's the wedding?" Mike's a little upset with how long they waited to tell him about such big news, but he says this lightheartedly to not bring any attention to his hurt, not expecting a real answer.
"Around fall next year, we were thinking around early November. Halloween was when we first hung out, feels fitting to have it right when we started." Mike's heart trembles queasily.
Early November? That's too close. He won't be able to attend if that's the case; the memories, they'll hit him too hard. Would they not hit all of them too hard? Could he really be the only one who's still scared of it all? He begins to panic inside, but tries not to let his quick breathing show.
"That's cool. So cool!" Mike manages to get out.
"We're super stoked. Hey, it'll be like a little party reunion! We're obviously inviting everyone, it'll be great to all be together again, don't you think?" Mike's heart rate ramps up significantly, because if this means what he thinks it means, then there would be a certain someone there that he isn't sure he'll have the courage to face.
"Yeah, yeah, super great. By everyone, do you mean, like...Dustin and stuff." He doesn't want to be too eager to find out if Will's attendance is confirmed, so he attempts to disguise his question as Dustin-based. It's blatantly unbelievable.
"Well, Dustin's confirmed already as Lucas's best man, so we'll definitely see him there. Will too, I don't know about Jonatha..." The rest of the names Max lists drift off into the distance, Mike's brain seeming to stop the moment Will's name is uttered, like he's just been forcibly put on pause, "...so yeah, we're excited." Mike realises it's his turn to speak.
"You guys should be, it's super exciting. God, I can't believe it. You two are the dream, you know that?"
"We do," Lucas says, holding tight onto his now-fiancée, "Well, we should get going, headed off to look at some wedding inspiration things, actually. Talk later, okay? You'll get a proper invite in the mail soon."
"Of course, have fun, lovebirds." They all laugh before the two leave, and Mike's alone once more. Once he reaches his house, he makes a beeline for his room, ensuring that he doesn't encounter any family along the way. His face is not looking very pleasant right now, and having a conversation with anyone else would likely mean needing to hide any emotions associated with the resurgence of William Byers, a near-impossible feat in Mike's current state.
He shuts the door to his bedroom and tears his coat off, sick of the feeling of it sticking to his skin, and kicks his shoes off before sitting dumbfounded on the bed. It sinks beneath him, his weight seeming twenty tonnes more than it actually is.
Firstly, he can't believe that Lucas and Max couldn't be bothered telling him about the engagement until they conveniently ran into him on the street. He thought they were closer than that. Maybe he'd drifted away from them more than he thought...
Secondly, holy shit, he's going to see Will again. It's like a fever dream, and Mike can't tell whether he's insanely excited or terrified to see the boy face to face again. It's not like the wedding is anytime soon, but the thought of actually having a confirmed place to see Will again fills his heart with a sense of security that he hasn't felt in a long time.
He lets himself sit and revel in this feeling for a minute, allowing the giddiness to wash over him. He begins to daydream about what their meeting again would be like, and finds himself sitting in front of his typewriter once again, the words coming easily this time.
Will would run up to Mike and engulf him in a gigantic hug, and all of Mike's worries would melt away in a split second. Will would tell him he liked Mike's suit, Mike would say thank you, and compliment Will's shiny jewellery and hair.
They would sit next to each other during the ceremony, whispering to each other about how good the happy couple in front of them are for each other, and stand up and cheer together when the first kiss was had. They'd wander off together into some room and spend the night catching up on lost time, talking deep into the night, fueled by cold beer and cocktails and maybe the odd cigarette if Will was into that.
At the end of the night, Will would stay at Mike's like the old times. They'd sleep in Mike's room, reading comics and sharing looks until the morning rolls around, and if Will felt anxious at all, Mike would be there for him as always.
Mike pauses typing out this fantasy, and it hits him how ridiculous this is. If he wanted to talk to Will so much, he could just call him. The phone is on the hook just outside his room; it would be so easy to dial the number permanently engraved into his mind and pray to hear Will's voice come through on the other end.
But he doesn't. And he won't. So, Mike settles for the simpler option of writing the made-up scenario in his room late into the night. It's almost therapeutic, writing the ending to a story he never got to fully finish, but an ending that will likely never be.
Mike knows it's not fair to Will to expect more from the two of them, especially after the way he handled their entire relationship. He knows this and still prays that this scenario will magically be brought to life from the page, and their years of drama will finally be sorted once and for all.
Mike knows this will never be real. But his stories don't have to be real; they can just be for him. He can write his own story with Will in his mind, and whatever happens in real life will happen, but he'll always have this life with Will on these pages that never ended.
So he continues writing, deep into the night, of how Mike Wheeler and Will Byers never stopped being best friends and started becoming something more, and he writes and writes until he can't write anymore, collapsing into sleep quickly with the fake memories of what they could have been, and what they would be able to be if Mike was never so damn scared.
--- 14 Months Later ---
Mike's ironing his suit out the night before the big wedding, making sure every crease disappears under the heated metal. He has to look perfect. This is the first time he's gonna see a lot of people in a long while, and he doesn't want to look like a complete dud while doing so. He shines his shoes, polishes his watch and cufflinks, and practices tying his light yellow tie over and over until he eventually gets it perfect, laying it down gently on the ironing table.
Every piece of his outfit is laid out before him, head to toe, each individual detail painstakingly picked to complement his features, all of which his mom helped him decide on. His suit is solid black, his collared shirt a lighter shade of blue, and, of course, a soft yellow tie. Karen said it makes his brown eyes "pop", but he likes the colour yellow anyway, so he's very happy with the choice nonetheless.
Mike brushes his teeth with force, ensuring that every little nook and cranny is cleansed of any remaining food or debris lying there. Once satisfied, he rinses his mouth out and spits down the sink, savouring the minty taste in his mouth.
He's always loved the taste of toothpaste ever since he was a kid. It used to mean having big sleepovers where everyone would brush their teeth together and throw all their toothbrushes into one cup, praying that they remembered which one was whose.
Those days were long behind Mike now, though the memories were still close to his heart. Anything associated with childhood sleepovers gives Mike ridiculous nostalgia these days, like pizza or pillow forts, so when Holly has her friends over for them, Mike has to lock himself in his room until they leave.
It's too sad to confront those memories that he can't make anymore, no matter how much he would like to.
Once he's sure that everything is perfectly set up for the morning, he allows himself to lie down and try to sleep, but the mere thought of reuniting with everyone tomorrow keeps him up. He doesn't let himself smile, but the giddy excitement rushing through his body is pulling at the sides of his lips.
If he smiles, he's accepting that he wants this to be fun. Letting the happiness spread to his face would mean that disappointment would be inevitable. Mike's learned to keep his expectations low in order to never get too upset, but he really wants this to go well, for everything to be back to how it once was for just one night.
He wants this more than almost anything. Almost, because the one thing he wants more than the night going well is, well, Will.
The day he's been hoping for for over a year has finally come, and all he can think about is getting to see his best friend again. After all this time, he wonders what's changed, if Will is still the same loving boy he used to be or if all that time in the bustling San Francisco has changed him for the worse.
Mike can't imagine that he's changed that much, being stuck here all this time. There's only so much development you can go through as a person when there's nowhere new to develop from, no new person to develop into. He's been stuck in the same state of mind for years, clearly evident by his anxiety around this time of year. It's not as bad as it usually is, so Mike hopes that maybe his fear is finally starting to die down.
Maybe seeing everyone else's success and joy would snap him out of it. Maybe Will could help snap him out of it.
--- November 6th, 1992 ---
At 7:30 am sharp, Mike's alarm blares, and he immediately switches it off with a bang. He was lying awake in bed all morning, waiting for it to go off so that he could get up and get ready, so the moment it sounds, he darts up and heads to the bathroom to shower and wash his hair. He shampoos three times today, wanting to make sure his hair is extra clean for such a special event.
You'd think he was the one getting married with all this preparation, shaving and applying aftershave as if another person had taken over his body. Mike's never been this organised in his life on his own accord. Nobody was forcing him to get up and get ready; he just was, and that sounds like a perfectly normal thing to do, but for Mike Wheeler, there's nothing more impressive.
Clothes? On. Tie? Straight. Hair? Styled. Even more aftershave? Done (perhaps a bit too much, the strong smell assaulting his nostrils).
Everything seems to be in order, so he does one last check in the mirror to make sure there's nothing else he should tweak or alter about his appearance, eventually deciding that everything is about as good as it's gonna get. Some stray hairs are sticking out, and his skin isn't as clear as he'd like it to be, but there really isn't much else he can do, so he grabs the gift he bought for Lucas and Max (a record player for their new home as well as an infamous Kate Bush record) and heads downstairs.
"Ok, Mom, I'm heading out now." He says, just about to open the door.
"Wait, wait, let me get a photo of you!" He sighs dramatically as Karen saunters towards him and brings up a Polaroid camera to take a quick photo. As soon as the flash goes off, Mike gives her a hurried hug and dashes out the door, "Say hi to Nancy for me!"
The engine revs, the car starts up, and Mike sets off for the Hawkins Vineyard. Despite getting married so young, these two sure seemed to have a big budget.
Their wedding venue was gorgeous, and actually where Joyce and Hopper got married the year prior. Mike remembers not getting an invite to that and lying dejectedly in bed all night, imagining the rest of the party having fun and dancing and laughing together while he was stuck at home.
Luckily, this time he wouldn't have to feel that way. The venue is already pretty packed by the time Mike pulls into the car park, and the nerves hit his stomach, making it squirm. He takes a look around and sees quite a few people that he doesn't recognise, likely people that they've met in college and their plus ones.
Mike had the option to bring a plus one, but there was really nobody that came to mind for him to bring. Besides, today was supposed to be about reconnecting with old friends, not making new ones. One last adjustment of his hair in the mirror, and Mike's stepping cautiously out of his car.
He finds the entrance where everybody seems to be funnelling into and heads in that direction, where he's met with the giant gift table, piled high with boxes and shapes coated in different shades and colours of paper. Mike places his gift on an untouched part of the table and takes it all in; there are so many people here. An overwhelming number of people, actually, so much that Mike feels like there isn't enough air for all of them combined.
Tables stretch out along the grass lawn, draped with pretty tablecloths and dotted with elaborate candles and decor, and slightly further away, Mike can see the actual area where the official ceremony will occur, indicated by an array of brilliant flowers lined up and down the aisle and on a towering wedding arch. Everything looks remarkable; it's all that Mike could have hoped for on this special day for these special people.
After looking around the place for a while, Mike decides to head to the bar and get started with a drink. He figures it's never too early for a beer, even though he's cutting it close with the time only being 12 pm. The bartender slides his drink over, and Mike takes a big swig.
He doesn't get drunk often, and he doesn't plan on doing so tonight, but everybody knows that passing up free alcohol is just idiotic. He's about halfway through his beer when-
"My god, Wheeler, is that you?" A familiar voice shouts from behind. Mike swivels in his chair, and sure enough, he's met with a perky Robin Buckley heading his way, dressed in a full white tuxedo, bowtie and all, arms outstretched.
"Robin!" They hug, "Wow, it's great to see you."
"You too! It's been a while since I've heard from you, what's been going on? Anything new lately? How's the writing?" The quickfire questions are a lot; Mike had forgotten how eccentric Robin can be at times.
"Yeah, it's going good, almost finished with this one, I've been spending a lot of time on, so that's cool." Robin takes a seat next to him and orders a cocktail Mike's never heard of for herself.
"That's great to hear! Look, you really have to let me read one of your books. I feel like I'm missing out big time."
"Oh, no, you'll probably think they're ridiculous compared to all your actually interesting radio scripts and interviews. Is the Squawk still treating you well?"
"First of all," Robin takes a sip of her cocktail and points at Mike, "Writing isn't ridiculous, it's incredibly creative. Second of all, the WSQK is still amazing, but I've started working at this new radio station in Florida. I mean, it's everything I thought it would be, just phenomenal, and so interesting, you know? It's been surprisingly easy to find my place there."
"Wow, cool, man. By 'your place', do you mean there's a special someone?" Mike raises his eyebrows suggestively, making Robin let out her infamous loud cackle. She's always been easy to talk with in a simple way; they never needed to go into anything deep, just chatting about their lives always seemed very natural.
"There's this one girl, Tiffany. She's really nice, we've been going out for a few months now, and she's honestly great."
"What a ladies' woman!" Robin mimes a bow, and Mike plays into the bit by giving a dainty round of applause.
"What can I say? I did invite her to come tonight, but she's got a charity auction thing that she's hosting, so I figured I'd come solo," Mike tries to register the fact that Robin's dating a literal saint while polishing off the rest of his drink, "Anyway, how about you? Anybody new back in Hawkins?"
Mike should have seen this question coming, but he still doesn't know how to answer it. There's never been anybody new for him; it's only ever been a question of whether it was even possible to fall for somebody new after all of the things he's been through. There was never really anybody else in this world that would be able to understand him the way he needs to be understood, nobody but the one person he's avoided speaking to for north of two years.
The person he's just seen walking through the door, actually.
Will Byers is dressed head to toe in a breathtaking baby blue suit, complete with a white button-up shirt with at least the top four or five buttons undone, exposing the majority of his slightly hairy chest and some of his upper stomach.
His hair is the real show stealer, teased up into a softer, Harrington-esque style with a more Will Byers feel to it; gentler, thinner, calmer. Steve's hair always felt like looking at the epitome of perfection, but Will's is a really nice, realistic version of it. Without even having a conversation with the boy, Mike knows he's changed. The Will he used to be close with would never have the confidence to wear something as extravagant as this to a public event, but this new version is clearly a lot more secure in himself.
Mike finds that remarkably attractive.
"Hello? Earth to Mike?" He snaps his head back to Robin, attempting to conjure up an answer from thin air after seemingly staring into the distance for an extended period of time.
"Uh.. nope! No, absolutely nobody. Small town, not many people. Hard to find the right one." Especially when Mike's already found him, standing in the same room as him, speaking to another stunning man. This other person has similar hair to Mike, black and curly, and he's wearing darker green dress pants with no matching blazer, just a simple cream collared shirt tucked neatly into them.
Mike had never been a huge fan of dark green. It's too dark, all-encompassing, and hard to wear. He never feels warm or safe around it; it's just a filler colour that exists only to be paired with other better colours (like baby blue, off the top of Mike's head). On its own, it's dull and somehow stagnant.
Actually, he hates dark green. Especially on this other guy. Especially when he's got his arm around Will, the disgusting green contrastingly horrendously with the pale blues and white's of Will's suit.
"Mm, yeah. I get what you mean. Oh well, you're good looking and funny, you'll find someone eventually!" Robin says joyfully, and all Mike does is nod, head still fixed on Will and this random guy all over him. Now, he's fixing Will's hair, which doesn't need fixing at all. He's just touching for the sake of touching it, and straightening his collar with long, slender fingers, fingers that Mike wishes were his on Will.
Robin finally clocks where Mike's looking, "Byers!" She shouts out, getting Will's attention. She beckons for Mike to follow, which he reluctantly does after straightening his blazer out while the two friends hug dramatically. "What an outfit, I love it!" Will chuckles and combs his hand through the bottom of his hair at the nape of his neck, a tick that Mike's learnt Will resorts to when he's nervous or bashful.
"Thanks, Robin, you look great too." Will turns to Mike, and when their eyes meet, the whole room seems to go silent. "You too, Mike. It's funny seeing you in a suit after so long." It's strange hearing Mike's name come from Will's mouth after all these years, almost surreal in a way.
"Thanks, I'm not exactly a fancy dress guy." He gives a sweeping arm gesture at his outfit, earning a cute giggle out of Will, making him stutter over his next sentence, "A-And Robin's right, really nice outfit. The blue is great." Will gives a grateful nod and smile in response.
"Oh, by the way, you two," He grabs the dark-green-pants-boy by the arm and pulls him close, "This is Carlton. My... boyfriend."
"Cool." Mike tries to hide his despair, but he feels as though Will has picked up on something by a small, questioning look that he darts in Mike's direction.
Will and his boyfriend strike up a conversation with Robin about creative radio broadcasting and university and San Francisco, and Mike pretends to be listening, but he's lost in his own thoughts and heartbeat. Standing next to Will's boyfriend, he gets the sudden urge to sucker punch the guy in the face.
The smug look on his face disgusts Mike. How dare he be so happy with a boy who doesn't belong to him? Their arms touching makes Mike's blood boil even more, their grasp on each other seeming far too tight and far too close, and just when Mike thinks it couldn't get any worse, this Carlton guy finds Will's hand and their fingers thread between each other.
The sight makes Mike want to throw up all over Carlton's disgusting outfit and then wait for him to change into new clothes just so that Mike could pour a gallon of red wine on his head. Speaking of wine, Mike thinks that this is a perfect time for alcohol.
"Excuse me, I'll be right back." Mike darts away before any of them can say a word and towards the bar, getting himself a glass of hearty red wine. He downs it quickly, then gets a refill before returning to the others.
"Mike?" He hears just as he's getting up from the bar. It's Nancy, wandering through the crowd with Jonathan.
"Oh, hey, Nance."
"Already getting into the booze?" Mike looks down at his drink, furrowing his brow and trying to think of a reasonable excuse aside from the fact that Will got a fucking boyfriend.
"Yep."
"Fair enough. Free bar, fair game." Nancy says, and they spend the next few minutes catching up with each other about all the things they've been doing while away from each other. It's nice, and Mike almost forgets about Will and Carlton until he says goodbye to Nancy and Jonathan and prepares to head back to his nightmare situation.
Just as he returns, everyone begins to head over and be seated for the actual ceremony. Robin leads the way, Mike trails behind her, and somewhere behind Mike are Will and Carlton, wandering aimlessly together with their hands wrapped around one another's. Eventually, Robin finds a row with only a few other people and takes a seat. Mike sits beside her, Will beside Mike, Carlton beside Will. The chairs are relatively close to each other, so Mike can feel Will's arm brushing his every so often, which is funny because Robin didn't seem to be making physical contact with Mike at all.
This seating arrangement would not usually bother Mike; on the contrary, he'd usually be quite happy, but having to sit next to Will as he whispers jokes into his laughing boyfriend's ear makes Mike want to shoot himself in the head. Multiple times. He sips his wine angrily.
Robin begins a hearty conversation with the other people in the row, leaving Mike stranded between talking with Robin and the strangers or Will and his boyfriend. Choosing neither, he talks to his wine instead, finishing off the glass in one large gulp.
Watching the two boys out of the corner of his eye, it's taking everything he can to not fully turn around and stare them down for being so close to each other. He can see Carlton's hand on Will's thigh now, big and overbearing, mocking him.
'You don't get to touch him, and I do', it seems to say, which is unfortunate because that's exactly what's pissing Mike off the most right now. He wishes that those were his hands on Will instead, feeling his supple skin and the silky fabric of his remarkable outfit.
Mike takes a quick look around to see if the ceremony is going to start any time soon, or if he should boost it and go grab another wine. He thinks he might need it.
"Hey, Robin?" He whispers, leaning towards the girl who's in the middle of a conversation, who pauses for a moment to respond.
"Yeah?"
"When does the ceremony start?"
"I'd say ten minutes, give or take."
"Great. I'll be right back." Mike turns to get up and leave, "Sorry, Will, can I just get through quickly?"
"Yeah, of course." Will pushes his knees into his chair, involuntarily making him curl up closer to Carlton. Mike 'accidentally' kicks Carlton's shin, making the guy gasp in pain.
"Shit, sorry, I didn't see your leg there." He hears a distinct laugh escape Will's mouth, which he immediately feigns as a cough.
"No, that's alright, man," Carlton says, but Mike can tell he's done some damage at least. As soon as he's out of sight, he drops the earnest look on his face and lets a smirk spread.
He ambles his way towards the bar through the thinning crowds, getting himself another beer (which he tells the bartender not to open as he likes to show off and take the cap off with his teeth) and returns to his seat. He sidles awkwardly past Carlton and Will again, spine brushing against the backs of the chairs in front of them. A chair leg catches in front of one of his feet, and two firm hands grab his waist before he tumbles embarrassingly to the floor.
"Mike, are you okay?" Will says up at him, hands holding steadily onto a blushing Mike.
"Yep, all good." Will's hands don't leave. Mike notices Carlton's face looking a little sour.
"You sure? Not gonna fall over again?" He says through laughter, hands loosening and dropping a little, but not fully leaving.
"Yeah, yeahyeah, I've got it." Will's hands drag away from Mike's waist, fingers trailing for slightly longer than Mike thought he'd get before they find themselves back in Will's lap. Mike takes his seat, making sure that him and Will's arms touch just enough that it would be awkward to move away, but just enough to stay. "Thanks." He says genuinely to Will.
"That's okay," Will spies the beer in Mike's hand and raises an eyebrow, "How much have you had to drink already?"
"Not that much." Unfortunately for Mike, his words do sound a bit disjointed here, not exactly giving the impression of a fully functioning sober man.
"Oh my god. You're drunk. You're drunk at midday." Will says, and Mike looks at him with a forced, unnatural smile, attempting to put some humour behind the relatively irresponsible state he's in, "Don't go crazy, I can't babysit you tonight."
"Hey, when have you ever babysat me?" Mike exclaims.
"Robin's twenty-first? New Year's? Halloween?" The list could go on and on, Will counting these three dramatically on his fingers before Mike waves him off, bringing the capped bottle up to his mouth.
"That's not babysitting, that's caring for a friend." He takes his teeth to the lid and pops it off, offering the cap to Will, "Look, I'll trade you a bottlecap for your company tonight, they're very rare."
"Tempting," Mike feels like he's about to get shot down,"...You're really going to damage your teeth if you keep doing that, you know."
Score.
"These pearly whites? Absolutely not, they're invincible." Mike flashes a toothy grin, showing off his imperfect teeth. He's always been relatively insecure about his teeth, actually, but it's hard to be insecure with Will. It always has been. All of a sudden, wedding music starts playing, and their conversation is halted.
"God, you're ridiculous." Will leans towards Mike, whispering teasingly, his hair tickling Mike's face and ear. Mike wants to lean back towards him, to indulge in his touch, to prove that he's better than this shitty college nobody that he's all over.
But he doesn't. Mike just shrugs boastingly and takes a swig of his beer, Will's touch departing from his face. They both spot Lucas standing at the end of the aisle, and he looks like he's about to shit himself with nerves.
"Oh my god, he looks stunning," Will says dumbfoundedly to Mike.
"That suit must've cost a shit ton to tailor."
"Well, it certainly worked. Max is a lucky girl." Mike frowns a little. He hates it when Will compliments other people and not him.
While everybody else is busy looking at the aisle to see the bridesmaids and flower girl, and other official wedding members, Mike's eyes pick up on the fact that Carlton's touch is no longer pestering Will, his arms folded across his lap instead.
This fills Mike with joy, not that he wants Will's boyfriend to be pissed off with him (even though he kind of does), but that Will must have done something to piss him off, and judging by the fact that him and Mike were just talking to each other and not Carlton for a hot minute, Mike feels it's safe to assume that it's his fault. He takes a sip from his beer to hide the smile coming onto his face.
In the funnel of people walking down the aisle, Mike spots a familiar-looking guy with curly brown hair tamed to match a well-suited tuxedo,
"Dustin!" Will blurts out, waving excitedly at the boy. Mike decides to join in, and when Dustin catches their eyes and waves back, he has to do a double-take at them sitting so close and being so friendly before continuing to walk forward and find his place next to Lucas at the end of the aisle. Everyone's come through now, except for Max, so the crowd stands up and awaits her entrance.
Slowly, doors begin to open, and the silhouette of a stunning white dress fills the aisle, red hair contrasting brilliantly with the stark white of the gown. Mike has to admit that she looks gorgeous in that dress, and everybody else seems to think so too, as the entire audience gasps at the sight of her. One of Will's hands comes up to cover his mouth, the other reaching back to grab Mike in shock at how wonderful she looks.
Will's hand grabs tight onto Mike's upper arm, squeezing hard with excitement for his friend, and although it hurts a little, it's a good kind of hurt that Mike wouldn't mind feeling more often. She finally reaches the end of the aisle and stands opposite a beaming Lucas, and everybody is seated. The two lovers look at each other with such conviction that they're going to be happy together, and everybody else can feel that they're correct.
Their love has always been believable, unwavering, like they've always been one hundred per cent sure that this is where they were going to end up, together. Mike feels jealous at this notion; the fact that love can be so easy for some people and so impossibly hard for others. Their tender love of hands on each other, soft gazes filled with hope and sureness, was something that Mike had always craved.
To know that the person you love will always be there for you, no matter what, and that everybody will believe in your love because of how blatantly it shines outwards from your hearts. That's what Mike needs to feel, but he doesn't think he ever will. How could he ever have this normal connection?
A wedding between a straight couple of mixed race is a lot more acceptable than a gay one. Will's hand sinks off his arm.
The official ceremony goes on, ending in a fairytale kiss where Lucas dips Max and holds her in his arms, as if he'll never let go. They look breathtaking together.
With the main ceremony out of the way, it was time for Mike to get wasted. About halfway through the ceremony, when Carlton's arm had found itself around Will's shoulders somehow, he'd settled the debate in his mind that getting tipsy was hardly enough and that it was absolutely necessary for him to get as sloshed as humanly possible.
"Well, all I can say is that their kids are going to be models, models, I tell you," Robin says as she gets up, insisting on hurrying out of the aisle so that she can go say hello to Nancy and Jonathan.
As she beelines for the couple, Mike's stuck with his own problem here. He doesn't want to be a third wheel all night, but Lucas and Max will be enjoying their time as newlyweds, and Dustin will be right by their sides, so really, his only option is to drink by himself.
"What a beautiful ceremony," Will says, "I mean, they really got this place looking perfect," Carlton murmurs in agreement, and Mike watches as he forces his hand into Will's, "Right, Mike?" He turns around to face Mike, who almost jumps at the sudden personal address.
"Oh! Yeah, wow, stunning. I'm super happy for them." Mike wishes he could sound more genuine right now, but the thought of having to drink alone all evening is beginning to eat away at his soul. He figures it's only a matter of time before Will and Carlton want some alone time, but there's a bigger part of him that wants to just tag along with them until he gets told to leave (or they leave him).
"I need a drink." Mike could not agree with Will more, and the three of them charge for the bar. Will takes his blazer off, clearly overheating in the setting sun, and hands it to Carlton to take care of. Carlton gets some niche pale ale, and Will orders the same cocktail that Robin ordered before. Mike settles on another strong wine.
"I didn't think you'd be a wine drinker!" Will leans against the bar top next to Mike, their arms brushing even though his other hand is still chained to Carlton's grip, who's watching Mike like a hawk.
"Neither did I, but here we are. Funny thing is, I knew you'd be a cocktail drinker."
"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" Mike pretends to think for a minute, already knowing his answer.
"Good, I think. I'll have to try it first, though. Can I have a sip when it comes?"
"Sure, but first you have to tell me why." His brow furrows.
"Why what?"
"Why wine? What do you actually like about it?"
"Getting drunk."
"But you can get drunk with any alcohol, why wine? It tastes so... bitter."
"My theory is that the faster a drink gets you to the bathroom over the toilet, the better it is."
"And how's that mentality worked out for you in the past?" The bartender arrives with their drinks, and they all echo their thanks, "Let me guess, passed out in your room and needing me to put you into bed?"
"Well, when you put it like that, it doesn't sound great, does it?"
"No, no, it does not," Carlton interjects, his voice physically hurting Mike's ears. It's too deep, like he's forcing it to be lower than it actually is to try to seem more attractive, but it just comes off as creepy to Mike. Maybe that's what Will likes.
"For context, it was New Year's Eve, had to go out with a bang!" Mike's attempt at a playful joke with Carlton does not work in his favour, earning him nothing but a half-assed shrug and a sigh. Mike wants to give Will a look to say 'Seriously? This asshole?', but figures it's best to just play it safe for now. He rotates on the counter to lean on his forearm, facing Will, "Okay, let me try this thing."
"Be my guest." Will holds the drink out, and Mike expects him to need to grab it, but the glass reaches his mouth by itself and tips. He gets a taste and taps Will on the hand to signify to pull the glass away, swallowing the sweet liquid. "So...?"
"It's nice."
"...That's it? That's all you think, nice? You're full of shit, Mike!" Mike pretends to be taken aback by this.
"What? No! Look, as a connoisseur of fine wines, I simply don't have the right... palette for these sugary drinks."
"Oh, fuck off." Will gives him a playful nudge with his elbow into Mike's side, making them both laugh a little. Mike almost forgets Carlton's there until he leans down and whispers something to Will, which makes his face change into a new expression that Mike can't quite read. It's a mixture of excitement, but also fear, but also happiness, but also... Mike gives up. "Hey, I'll be back later, we just wanted to have a little wander around the place and see what else is here."
Mike's pissed.
"Oh yeah, sure, I'll see you soon." He tries to play it off, but he's livid at the sight of Carlton dragging Will away by the hand, the two of them eventually disappearing into the crowd of people. As Mike stands there, leaning against the bar and letting the wine wash down his throat, a flash of baby blue catches in his eye. Was Will already back? Please say Will is already back.
Unfortunately, he isn't, but instead his jacket is lying there beside Mike on the benchtop. His stupid boyfriend must have left it there before they ran off. Now Mike is double pissed off, because not only did Carlton drag Will away from Mike's side, but he left his gorgeous, clearly expensive blazer lying on the bench here, ready to be stolen by some drunk asshole.
He throws back the rest of his drink for what seems the millionth time that night and carefully picks up the blazer, not wanting to damage or crease such an artful piece of clothing. The truth is, Mike doesn't really give a shit about the price tag of the jacket, but the fact that it's Will's adds infinite value, and it makes Mike want to deliver it back to the boy in sparkling condition, hopefully with Carlton there to really rub salt into the wound.
He follows the vague path that Carlton and Will carved out in the crowd, attempting to search for them around the vast winery building. He opens every single door to every room he sees and scans it thoroughly before moving on to the next.
Mike feels a bit like this is a D&D crawl, searching for the missing princess and her captor to deliver the stolen crown jewels and rescue her from the evil kidnapper's grasp. But that was fantasy, not real life, no matter how striking the parallels seem to be for the situation.
He starts to slow down, looking into each room with a lot less drive and force than previously; with so many different areas of the winery, it seems impossible to search them all without missing anything. The task begins to seem very daunting, and the wine is finally starting to hit Mike's system, causing him to stumble back and forth a little. The hallways are clear, luckily, meaning that nobody would witness his walk of shame while searching for Will and his asshole boyfriend.
Everything starts to turn into one big meaningless pathway, and Mike starts to feel like there's no purpose. He keeps zoning in and out of his consciousness, and in between reality snippets of the past would slip through.
Eleven's death. Will's disappearance. The monsters. The Upside Down. The Mind Flayer. Vecna. Henry. 001. Everything.
It all starts flowing back to Mike like a bad dream breaking through, and there's nobody around to comfort him this time. The only person who could possibly soothe this horrifying feeling is locked up in some room with a guy who doesn't deserve Will, doesn't need Will like Mike needs him. It's not fair. It's not fair.
With absolutely no power at all, Mike pushes open another door, but he hears something this time. It's not a sound that Mike is remarkably familiar with, but he does recognise it from old times he spent with Eleven, times where they would play music and sit together on her bed and make out for hours. It was never very fun, but that's what Mike thought girlfriends and boyfriends were supposed to do.
Although this mimics the same sound of mouths moving against each other, there's something different about it. With Eleven, the music always drowned out any noise, making sure that the moment was encapsulated in a soundtrack rather than in a moment between the two of them, but he could hear everything now. His ear pressed against the crack in the door, Mike can hear the soft noises of kissing echoing through the room, occasionally interrupted by a gasp or sigh.
Mike doesn't know what to do with himself. Here he is, standing outside a room where his childhood best friend/current obsession is making out with his boyfriend, and all he can do is listen and wait. Hopefully, they'll eventually stop, and Mike can pretend like he's just arrived and barge in with a cool swagger and nonchalantly hand Will's jacket back with a toss of his hair.
Unfortunately, it doesn't seem like the two boys are slowing down anytime soon, so Mike stops fighting it and tries to listen for Will. He's not hard to pinpoint, his sounds being much softer and higher than the manlike noises coming from Carlton. He hates hearing Will with another guy, but beyond anything, he hates that he's just sitting and waiting.
Waiting for something to happen, and for everything to turn okay and Carlton to magically storm off, then he'd be able to comfort Will and finally bring him home.
But that's not going to happen. Mike's waited long enough for shit with Will to work out, and sitting outside this door while this idiot gets to touch and feel and love Will is enough to make Mike go insane. So, he does what any insane person would do, and he pushes the door open to reveal the two boys, lips pressed together. Will is sitting on a small benchtop, and Carlton is looming down over him, holding Will's shoulders too strongly.
Will's hands, however, are by his sides, clasping the bench, his knuckles turning white. He doesn't exactly look happy.
"Uh..." Mike interrupts, making Carlton jump in shock, while Will doesn't seem to have any reaction at all. He looks absolutely drained and tired, "I found your jacket. Somebody left it at the bar." He gives Carlton a look of disgust, which isn't received too kindly.
"Thanks, Mike." Will croaks out, beads of sweat on his forehead. Something's wrong.
"Will, are you okay?" Mike starts to rush towards him, but he's stopped dead in his tracks as Carlton steps in front of him menacingly, "What is this shit, man? Get out of the way."
"Why don't you stay the fuck away from my boyfriend?" Mike's eyes widen in shock, unable to comprehend exactly what he just heard.
"Excuse me?"
"Oh, I know all about you, Michael Wheeler," He shakes his head, denying something when he doesn't even know what it is yet, but feeling the need for self defense with this leering man above him, "I've heard about your bullshit excuses, and shitty behaviour, and I would have thought that after all the shit that you've put Will through that you'd give up already."
"Will, what's he talking about?" Mike questions, but Will doesn't look well enough to make an answer.
"Don't ask him, I'm right here. Do you want to explain how you've been actively flirting with another guy's boyfriend years after he finally gets the self-respect to get over your disrespectful ass? How can you possibly think that you're what Will needs after all the shit you've done? You don't deserve him, Mike. Just go home."
Mike looks over at the shaking Will, his hands clasping onto the bench and his hair dripping with sweat. All the words that Carlton has just threatened him with dissipate into the background of his mind as he attempts to run over towards Will, only being held back when he feels a tug on the collar of his shirt.
"God, you really don't let up, do you?"
"He's not well! Look at him! Will, tell him that you're not okay!" No response, just his head hanging dully like a broken down puppet, "...Will? Will, what's going on?" Still nothing, and Mike's heart skips a beat, "Carlton, you need to let me go right now."
"No chance, you go over to him, you're going to put your hands all over him, and I won't let you do that."
"You don't understand, he is going through shit right now! Traumatic shit, shit I can't tell you, but if he hasn't told you, then clearly you haven't earned his trust enough because only the people closest to him really know what's going on right now! You need to let me go, or he's going to suffer even more; this isn't some 'steal your boyfriend' bullshit; he needs help! He needs me, not you."
Carlton pauses for a moment before reluctantly releasing Mike from his grasp, who scrambles towards Will and holds onto his shoulders. Will's head doesn't look up, just rolls around with the movement of his shoulders, being slightly shaken by Mike.
"Fuck this. He's your problem now." Mike could run over to Carlton and fist fight him for hours until he's battered and bleeding and barely breathing just for that alone, but leaving Will like this is a pain that he can't bear, so he lets Carlton storm out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Footsteps thunder down the hallway, leaving Mike and a teary-eyed Will alone.
"It's flashbacks, isn't it, Will?" He nods in response, barely any energy left to do so. Mike hates seeing Will struggling like this, but he's grateful to be here for him. "Are you comfortable here? I can take you to-to..." Mike does a quick look around the room and spots a small couch, "...that couch?"
"I-I can't walk." Will stammers, seemingly embarrassed.
"Okay, I'll carry you," Mike says defiantly, and as he goes to scoop Will up into his arms, Will pulls back a little and pushes on Mike's chest (with very little strength).
"It's fine. I'm fine, I-I'll just stay here."
"I think we both know you're not, Will. Let me carry you, please." Will gives Mike a look of acceptance, choosing not to fight it anymore. Mike gently brings one arm behind Will's back and another underneath his knees, pulling him in close. Will's arms come around Mike's torso, tucking his head into Mike's chest, and Mike is sure that his heart rate is embarrassingly hearable for Will right now.
"There you go," He carefully sets Will down on the couch to rest, his body immediately sinking into the soft fabric. Mike plops down next to Will's head, "Comfy?" Will nods.
"Thank you." He mumbles, tossing around and letting his head rest on Mike's thigh.
"Don't mention it. Now, tell me what's going on exactly." Will lets out a barely audible groan, clearly reluctant. "Come on, Will," Mike attempts to soothe him by bringing his hand to Will's hair, gently smoothing his palm over the top of it. A quiet sigh from Will indicates that his attempt works, and his mouth subsequently begins to talk.
"Well, um, Carlton wanted to leave and find a room to...you know," Will points indirectly at the benchtop where the two were making out just moments before, "And that was all fine, but the hallway was so long and the room so dark that it kinda brought me back to-"
"November sixth." Mike interrupts.
"Yeah, November sixth, and I hadn't gotten around to explaining what happened to me, to us, when we were younger because I was worried I was going to... scare him away or something. So he obviously had no idea why I was so lightheaded, and I didn't want to explain anything, so I just tried to pretend like everything was alright, and then you walked in and, well, here we are."
Mike makes a sympathetic noise, letting his fingers wander through Will's hair, "I'm sorry that happened, Will. I got some flashbacks while looking for you, too, you know."
"Really?" Mike nods like it's obvious, "I didn't think it... affected you that much. I-I'm sorry, I should have been more caring these past years and called during this-this time of year so that you had someone else to talk to about it all-"
"No, no, I'm not letting you apologise for anything. Even though I would have loved to hear your voice. But I should have called more, that's on me." Will's lips purse together in deep thought, hands clasped and fidgeting over his chest.
"Why didn't you?" Mike's body tenses, the small words striking big nerves in his body.
"I... I don't know. I wanted to. Like, almost every day but... I figured you were better off without me." Will's big green eyes look up at Mike. He tilts his neck back to do so, revealing more of his pale torso behind the undone buttons.
"You don't really believe that." Mike doesn't respond, instead biting the inside of his cheek. Mike lets out a shaky breath; he was supposed to be the one comforting Will, and now he has to be the one being comforted. Pathetic. Upon this reaction, Will sits up next to Mike, eyes showing more worry now, "... Do you?"
Mike supposes that there's no going back now. With Will pressed to his side and definitely calmer than before, this might be the time to have this conversation. After all, if not tonight, then when?
"...Ever since Eleven disappeared, I haven't known what to do with myself. I've let that affect my friendships and relationships a lot, especially with you, which is the last thing I ever wanted to happen." Mike turns to face Will, his eyes full of sincerity,
"I said that we'd still be best friends so many times, but I've never lived up to that. Every single time I say it, I just push you further and further away from me, and I don't- I don't know why. I just can't seem to get us right." Mike doesn't know how to talk about this. A warm hand lands on top of his.
"Mike... you've always been there for me since, well, forever."
"No. No, I haven't. I've been so scared to drift away from you that I accidentally ended up letting it happen, and now everyone's gone their separate ways, and I feel like I've left this too late, but... I regret how I let myself lose you, lose us."
"We haven't lost anything, I'm right here." A small squeeze shocks his fingers.
"We have, Will."
"How?"
"You have a boyfriend." A frown appears on Will's face, confused.
"What does that have to do with us?" He has a point, a point that Mike can't properly answer, so Mike just begins to let everything he's been thinking tonight spill out of his mouth.
"He's a dick! Did you see the way he stormed off, barely checking to see if you're okay? Who actually does that, man? Besides, he's being really touchy and weird with you, and you haven't looked comfortable with him all night; it's worrying."
"You're... worried about me." Will's hand slightly pulls away from Mike, his face filling with hurt. Mike can't believe that he's just said that after knowing how much Will hates being babied.
"That came out wrong. Super, super wrong, I meant... Look, this is selfish, I know, because I should be happy for you- and- and I am, it's just... I don't want to talk to him and you. I just want to talk with you, Will. And he's fucking that up." With that last added part, Mike throws his arms up in the air with irritation, then tests to see what Will's expression is now.
"What, so you just don't like him?" Mike could say that it isn't Carlton that he directly hates. Mike would hate anyone who walked in and touched and kissed Will and got to call him their boyfriend. He should admit to the fact that it's never going to be about the person Will's dating, it'll only ever be about Will.
"Yeah." Mike pussies out, making the choice that admitting his feelings for the boy could backfire horribly. Besides, Will's hand resting softly on his would be enough for now.
"Okay. Well, after this, I don't really want to talk to him either. And despite dogging on you earlier for being drunk, I'm going to need to make the most of this bar tonight." Will gets up, dusting the couch debris off his pants, a look of defiance assuming its position in his features,
"You want to get absolutely fucked?" Mike battles with his eyelids to try and stop them widening, swallowing hard to rid away the blush on his face.
"Are you sure you're feeling alright now?" A hand reaches out as an answer, Will making a face that says, 'Are you seriously asking me this?' Mike grabs it and is pulled up from the couch by Will's sturdy arm, "Then let's go."
Will grins and drags Mike behind him, picking up his jacket on the way out. The two boys run down the hallways, searching for the way back to the big party room by following the sound of partiers. They eventually come across the main room and bar again, packed with people and music on the dance floor.
Will leads the way, hand grasping tightly onto Mike's to ensure that they don't lose each other in the crowd, pushing through everybody until they reach the bar. They each have to scream their drink orders out over the music, and Mike actually orders the same cocktail as Will this time, earning him a surprised look.
"Wow, I see you've come around." Will has to lean closer to Mike and talk loudly to be heard, so close that his hot breath tickles Mike's ear and sends shivers all through his body. Mike turns his head slightly, making Will's mouth inches away from his cheek and replies,
"Figured I'd try something new." He hears a slight laugh before it disappears in the noise as Will pulls away to get the drinks. Mike realises their hands are still intertwined as he feels a slight tug on his fingers, letting Will's hand go before the boy passes him his newly shaken drink.
"Let's do a toast," Will suggests, raising his glass slightly, "To Lucas and Max!"
"To Lucas and Max!" They classes collide, "And to never seeing Carlton again!" Mike adds triumphantly before taking a sip, making Will spit out some of his drink. He covers his mouth as he laughs, his beautiful eyes crinkling in the corners.
"You know we're not actually broken up, right? I'll talk to him about it all tomorrow." Will adds before taking a proper sip, not spitting it out this time.
"Right, yeah, obviously." A big swig of the sweet concoction is needed to remedy the harsh reminder of this, the fact that Will technically still has a boyfriend, and that argument really doesn't mean anything except for the fact that a conversation is needed between them.
A conversation that could lead to anything, hopefully a breakup, but there are a lot of things people do when they make up after a fight. Mike shudders at the taste of the alcohol seeping down his throat.
They stand next to each other, observing everybody dancing around each other, a dance circle clearly forming. In the middle, Mike swears he can see Dustin's head shaking around, which is not a complete surprise.
"What if I pushed you in the middle right now?" Will teases.
"I'd pull out my awesome dance moves, duh." Will gives a sceptical laugh before signalling for Mike to show him. Mike shakes his head, "They're actually reserved especially for when I'm not going to remember myself in the morning."
"Oh, come on! You've gotta show me something."
"Not happening." Will rolls his eyes and sighs exasperatedly, the last drops of his drinks disappearing down his throat. He slides the glass onto the bench as well as his jacket, asking the bartender to keep it safe under the bar with a wink before beginning to head onto the dance floor.
"I guess I'll just go dance by myself then!" He shrugs and turns around, and before Mike knows it, Will has charged ahead to the music.
"Will, wait! Will- shit," He frantically chugs the rest of his drink and darts after the boy. "Will!"
Will turns around to reveal a grin on his face, his fingers jokingly beckoning Mike towards him. Mike catches up, and Will is bouncing along to the song, swaying his arms dramatically. Mike awkwardly looks around, having had near-zero experience with dancing in clubs and whatnot.
"God, you're so stiff!" Will grabs Mike's wrists and starts to move him along with the music, waving his hair wildly side to side. Seeing Will party like this is a very stark contrast to the quiet boy he knew in middle school, but his energy is infectious and causes Mike to start stepping to the beat, too.
Will nods enthusiastically at Mike, getting more into it, and Mike can only see him laugh rather than hear the pretty sound. The music booms loudly, making everything seem very surreal, including his wrists enveloped by Will's touch as he flings his arms around.
Will's smile is enormous, Mike notices, and this is what Mike should have expected after Will had been living in San Francisco for so long. The club scene there must be a lot louder and more active than the nightlife in Hawkins (which is nonexistent, actually). While Mike's been tucking himself into bed at a reasonable 10 pm, Will's probably been out partying through the night and running around making new cool friends all around town.
He's singing, or rather yelling, to the lyrics in Mike's face now, making sure to dramatically emphasise every word. Mike joins in. He's having so much fun dancing with Will that all the bodies around the two of them don't matter so much anymore; in fact, it almost adds to the experience because, despite all these other people bumping into them, he's still closer with Will than he is with anybody else in that room.
Two hands belonging to Dustin sneak up behind Will's shoulders and grab onto him, shocking the boy into releasing his grip from Mike with a yelp. Inaudibly, the two greet each other and hug, then Mike and Dustin do the same.
"Holy shit, I didn't know you were a dancer, Mike!" Dustin laughs out, clearly drunk as shit.
"I'm not!" Mike shoots a look at Will, who shrugs at him giddily.
"Coulda fooled me!" He begins dancing extravagantly to the song behind Will, their dancing style contrasting dramatically. His body kinda just moves in an incoherent manner, whereas Will, who's turned around facing Dustin now, back to Mike, seems to have more of a flow where his head and body and arms shift in sync.
With Will dancing in front of Mike, the temptation to lay his hands on Will's swaying hips runs deep through his veins. His hands are empty and longing, and he feels that having them by his sides is a lot less satisfying than feeling the firm body moving underneath his hands.
Unfortunately, Dustin's right there, and Will just cleared up that he still had a boyfriend, and it feels so wrong to do it anyway.
But Dustin won't see shit with all these people, Mike couldn't care less about Carlton, and he knows that holding Will would feel righter than anything.
Mike shuts his eyes tight and takes a deep, quick breath before dancing closer to Will and pretending to bump into him, steadying himself and Will by bringing his hands up to Will's waist. Will looks back over his shoulder, and Mike worries for a split second that he's made a wrong move, but Will just throws his head back into Mike and laughs.
"Oh my god, you're so clumsy," He shouts back at Mike, his head leaning into the left side of Mike's chest. Looking down at this sight of his hands holding firmly onto Will's waist as he presses perfectly into Mike feels like a really good, fake dream.
"Shut up and dance." Mike returns, and Will does just that. His hands move down to Will's hips as they sway back and forth, guiding Mike to do the same. His eyes are fixed on Will, whose hands are flying around in front of him, hair becoming more and more tousled by the second.
As the music continues, Mike takes a quick look up and around to see if there's anybody looking at them. Even though he'd rather die than let go, the thought of getting caught with his hands clasping Will haunts the back of his mind. What would people think if they saw two guys dancing this close to one another, dancing as couples do?
His thoughts turn to jelly when his eyes fall upon a person with ugly green pants and greasy black hair. Carlton is scanning around the room, clearly trying to find Will, unaware of the fact that his boyfriend is secured under Mike's touch now.
They lock eyes, and Carlton stops in his tracks. His face scans down and sees Will almost rubbing against Mike, his hips decorated with the boy's slender fingers.
"Will, Carlton wants to say hi!" Before Will can respond, Mike twists Will around to face his boyfriend, whose face is now burning a phenomenal shade of red. In character, Will waves excitedly at him before laughing drunkenly back into Mike, their bodies pressing together, then returning to dancing. Mike's sure Will doesn't mean any harm, affected immensely by the amount of alcohol in his system, but Carlton doesn't need to know that.
He can literally see him scoff in shock and stare down Mike, who bravely brings a hand up to flip off the guy. He brings this hand back to its rightful place on Will, holding even tighter than before, and gives one last mocking shrug at Carlton before looking away and focusing back on the dance floor.
With a newfound confidence, Mike pulls Will even closer to him, making their bodies fully press together. Will doesn't seem to mind at all; in fact, Mike can almost feel Will pushing back towards him. Dustin, as expected, remains oblivious to the newfound closeness between Mike and Will, eventually dancing off to some other part of the floor.
As he leaves, Will promptly turns around, and his hands find themselves on Mike's chest. He grins and beckons for Mike to lean down so Will can tell him something, and Mike abides accordingly, dipping his head as Will stands on his tiptoes.
"Come get another drink." His mouth bumps into Mike's ear a few times, partly due to the chaos of the dance floor, but each time it makes Mike's stomach drop. Will pulls back to see Mike's reaction, who nods and gives a thumbs up and a cheesy grin.
Will taps his hands on Mike's chest rhythmically before pushing himself off and grabbing Mike's remaining hand off his hip, stringing the boy along behind him. They reach the bar and unexpectedly find a crowd of people around the newlyweds, chanting as they take down a small board of shots. This gives Mike an idea, and as he and Will exchange a look, he can tell that they're thinking the exact same thing.
If there's one way to guarantee getting fucked up, it's those deadly little shots of vodka, so naturally, it's the perfect next drink choice for them. First, though, they head over to Lucas and Max, who have a crowd cheering around them as they finish the whopping ten shots together before kissing passionately. The two push their way through the crowd, letting their hands disconnect for now and reuniting with the couple.
"Jesus Christ, you two are insane!" Mike cheers, his hand patting Lucas on the back in commemoration.
"Yeah, that was so hot," Will adds, and they all jump together into a group hug, arms around each other's shoulders (most prominently Will's around Mike's). "Congratulations, guys, oh my god! That was such a beautiful ceremony."
"Thanks, you two! I see you've finally reunited." Max yells right by Lucas's ear, making him wince a little.
"We have! You've inspired us, you know." Mike returns, bringing a hand up to rest dangerously on the small of Will's back, who seems to shuffle a tad closer to Mike at the touch.
"With what? Getting married?" Lucas asks jokingly, making them all laugh like that was a ridiculous concept that Mike had absolutely never daydreamt about.
"No! With the shots!" Max and Lucas look at each other in surprise, then back at the two boys.
"You two are gonna die! You're both already lightweights-"
"Hey, don't group me in with him," Will interrupts, poking a finger at Lucas, "I could do that whole tray by myself, no problem."
Mike fakes an expression of offence, pointing at Will as if he's insane, "Are you two hearing this shit?"
"He's right, Mike, you're fucked." Max confirms, and Lucas and Will nod in agreement. Mike looks between all of them, then holds his hands up in the air like he's being targeted by all three of them at the same time,
"Wow, you're all so wrong."
"I highly doubt that theory." Max's attempt at stirring up Mike is working, and a part of him knows that he can't possibly take down five shots in a row with the current state he's in, but the determination might be enough to save him until the bathroom.
"Let's test it then!" He says finally, widening his eyes for dramatic effect, "Come on, Will." He grabs Will's waist with one hand and pulls him in the direction of the bartender, "You both are about to be proven wildly incorrect!"
"We look forward to it!" Lucas yells out behind them before grabbing Max the same way and trailing after the two, leaning on the bar beside the boys as they order their lethal shots. Lucas and Max chatter away while they all wait, and Mike finds Will's head beside his ear once more,
"Do you want to split them fifty-fifty, or do you want me to do more?" As much as Mike wants to believe he can take down all five, he needs a backup plan so that it's not embarrassing for him to have some of them left on the tray.
"How about if I look like I'm about to die, then just go ahead and do the rest?" Will's mouth stretches out, and his eyes squint slightly, a look that signifies slight fear and concern for his life. He quickly shakes it off, literally, his hair ruffling around as his head shuffles side to side. He's jumping up and down with fists clenched, preparing himself as the tray comes out.
It's wildly intimidating, staring at the board of shots with the knowledge of the hangover that will inevitably follow this, and the potential of hurling over the toilet. Mike takes a deep breath and rubs his hands together, cracking his knuckles. He looks at Will,
"Fuck, okay, ready?" He pats Will on the back gently, who's staring determinedly at the ten little glasses in front of them. He nods. They each grab a glass and hold it up to their faces, making eye contact before counting down,
"Three, two, one!" They say together, and as Mike just throws back the burning liquid, he sees Will lick all the way up the shot glass before tipping the acid down his throat. His face flushes.
They both take another one down, gathering quite an audience, and Mike feels like he's about to explode. Everybody chants 'shot, shot, shot...' around them, drowning out the painful feeling in his stomach.
He manages to do one more, leaving two extra for Will, who easily takes them as Mike watches wide-eyed. With the last swallow, Will lifts the glass up and cheers, the rest of their audience and Mike joining in before Will slams the glass down on the bench.
"Holy shit, we fucking did it!" Mike screams, instinctively seeing Will's hands up in the air and grabbing them while they celebrate, jumping up and down cheesily while Mike steals glances at Will's booze-soaked lips. He wishes it were as easy for them as it was for Lucas and Max, that he could just pull Will in and let their mouths crash together wonderfully in front of all these people.
"Goddamit, Wheeler, you actually did." Max cheers, the statement indicating anger, but the tone and expression on her and Lucas's faces show pure excitement and happiness.
"Even though Will saved your ass," Lucas adds on.
"Okay, it's not my fault that there's a bit of a tolerance difference here." Mike points at Will with one finger and puts his other arm around Will's shoulder, who stumbles a little but lets a hand fall onto Mike's back in return.
"Yeah, I vote that it's actually unfair to be on a team with Will in these types of games," Max indicates, and Mike just swats the statement away.
"You're just mad that somebody proved you wrong, for once!" Max rolls her eyes and accepts her fate,
"Fair game, you two are amazing, blah blah blah," They all laugh together, Will's hand indirectly slipping to wrap around Mike's waist, "Well, hope to see you on the dance floor!"
Mike and Will each nod their heads and wave goodbye to the couple as they disappear into the crowd, and Mike notices his head is spinning a lot more than he realised, relying heavily on Will to keep him upright.
"Mike?"
"Yep?" He says quickly, eyes wobbling over to look at Will.
"Not in a state to dance right now?"
"I'll go if you go." Will looks Mike up and down slowly, assessing his condition before pursing his lips and shaking his head.
"Let's go sit down." Will attempts to lead Mike away from the bar and back towards the main building, but Mike stands still and refuses to move, instead pulling Will back towards him and draping his other arm over Will's other shoulder, resting his forearms on either side of the boy.
"What if... I don't want to?" Mike's staring down into Will's green eyes, much more sunken now after the shots, but just as beautiful.
"Don't be stubborn," Will says without an ounce of defiance, the words almost wisping out of his mouth.
"I'm not being stubborn, you want to have fun." Mike's arms tighten and bring Will's head closer to his, needing to tilt his neck down to properly see Will, whose face has a smirk growing subtly, "So, let's have fun."
Mike pulls a groaning Will into a makeshift hug, Will's hands spreading out across his back. Mike steps back and forth and rocks them side to side before pulling away and grinning back at Will.
"Look, if I pass out out there, you have to carry me home." Mike jokes, letting his arms fall off of Will, though surprisingly still feeling hands on his back.
"Deal." Will's hands disappear from his back and find Mike's, stumbling backward towards the dancefloor while pulling him forward. They're back in the midst of the action now, bodies clunking messily around them and bumping them towards each other. Their hands keep each other sturdy as they shimmy back and forth like an ABBA music video.
Mike used to hate the band's girlish music until Will put their record on one day while hanging out, and now he can only think of their songs as a memory of those simple times in each other's rooms, doodling and creating together.
Mike feels like he's grown up more in the past few hours than he has in the past few years, partying and drinking and feeling hands on his that weren't boyish or feminine, but strong and belonging to a young adult dancing across from him.
It becomes increasingly harder to dance with energy, the want to just stand there and gaze at his ecstatic boy in front of him taking over his senses. Mike begins to slow down, lagging behind the music, only moving his body side to side with half-hearted footsteps. Will doesn't seem to notice, singing and dancing along like there's no tomorrow, allowing Mike to observe his performance.
Will almost moves in slow motion, his body forming patterns around the space he inhabits and leaving behind shadows of his limbs. Frame by frame, Mike watches Will in his natural habitat, free of care and unable to give a shit about anything or anyone around him.
Mike wishes he could take this energy and bottle it like a prescription, inject it daily to obtain the carefreeness that Will holds in this moment. He notices Will slowing down before stopping and looking at Mike with a tilted head, leaning in towards Mike's ear once more.
"I'm getting kinda tired." Mike sighs in relief, his legs about to give way.
"Do you wanna find somewhere to chill?" Will nods, and they both shuffle out of the dance area. Mike starts to go for the main building, but Will heads for the bar, their arms pulling taut at the differing directions, causing one hand to slip away from Will's, "Dude, no way you need more."
"I gotta grab my jacket." Mike lifts his head in understanding, letting Will drag him along happily. Will retrieves his jacket, getting slightly handsy with the bartender as he does so, patting his forearm out of kindness, but Mike still hates it nonetheless.
Unable to hear the conversation, Mike stands rigid as the bartender slips Will a small piece of folded paper, which Will takes with a smile before tugging Mike again. They stumble around and eventually end up in a small room similar to the one they were in before, an office, but smaller and with an armchair instead of a couch.
Mike gets to it first, legs giving way as he drops down into the pillowy fabric, arms stretched over the back and sides, arching his head back and groaning.
"Where am I gonna sit now?" Will jokes, gesturing at the lack of comfortable furniture around the room. Mike looks up and pats the small space in the seat next to him,
"There's still room." Mike expects Will to argue, but instead, he simply collapses beside Mike, bodies colliding, and his head finds its way to rest on Mike's shoulder, whose arm settles around Will. The sudden change in weight makes his vision falter slightly, lines blurring as Will falls into him.
"Fuuuck," Mike says out loud.
"What?" Will laughs out, confused.
"I'm so fucking gone." The statement is funny, sure, but not as funny as Will is making it out to be. He erupts into laughter, wheezing and dipping his head further into Mike's shoulder while doing so, "Holy shit, so are you!"
"No! I'm fine, you're wasted." A shaky finger comes up to poke Mike's chest on this, Will's head tilting up to prop his chin up on him. Mike just scoffs and rolls his eyes stupidly, a dopey grin spreading on his face.
His droopy eyes drag down to meet Will's, and they're about as droopy as his own, but still manage to look wide and full of wonder. Mike's index finger is drawn to twist around the hairs at the base of Will's neck, ghosting over his skin.
"Your eyes are pretty." Mike slips out, and he's being weird now. Mike can picture the story being written right in front of him: A look of surprise will now overcome Will's face; he'll pull away, say he has a boyfriend, and that Mike needs to stop.
"Mm, yours too." Will murmurs in response, his sunken gaze not drifting from Mike's.
This can't be real.
"Mine are a boring shit brown, yours are way nicer." The green in Will's eyes is pale, a shade that doesn't intimidate but welcomes instead. It's the colour of fresh grass in summer, strawberry leaves, faded paint on farmers' market signs, familiar but unappreciated until you really look at it closely.
And Mike was looking closely, alright.
"I like brown eyes." Will's voice is always so earnest that it's impossible not to believe him when he says anything, no matter how much Mike is fighting the notion of Will flirting with another guy while having a boyfriend. The piece of paper from the bartender comes to mind.
"Like that bartender?" Will's head tilts slightly, "The piece of paper he gave you? I assume it has his number. Honestly, anyone is better than Carlton at this point, so go you."
"I don't even know what colour his eyes are, Mike." He says with obviousness, like Mike should know this, even though he doesn't. Will's always been observant; that's how he got so good at art, especially with things he likes. By extension, Mike concluded that Will should have noticed the features of the bartender because he liked the look of him.
"I'm just saying that you were flirting. And you should go for it, break up with Carlton later. He was hot." Will purses his lips with a look of contemplation before eventually pushing himself off Mike with the palm of his hand and reaching into his pocket, digging out the piece of paper.
Will unfolds it and holds it in front of Mike's face teasingly, "I was being polite, not flirting, and if you think he's so hot, you hook up with him." Mike snatches the piece of paper from the grinning boy and rips it to shreds in his hands before tossing the remains behind him, making Will's hands cover his mouth in surprise.
"I'd genuinely rather hang myself." Mike chuckles out, he and Will dissolving into laughter on the tiny chair. Will's hands playfully slap Mike's thighs, the sharp feeling lingering as Will's hands don't leave, spread out over his legs.
Just as their laughter begins to ease, the music changes into a slower song from afar. Will sits up a little straighter and listens intently,
"Is that what I think it is?" Mike utters, processing.
"Prince? Purple Rain? Get up right now, the music is getting good again," Will jumps up from the chair, stumbling a little in the process, but attempting to pull Mike along with him. Mike groans as he's yanked up from sitting, blood rushing to his head. They tumble towards the door, but Mike hesitates as they're about to leave,
"Wait." He pulls on Will's arm, making the boy step incoherently towards Mike until their bodies are close to touching, "We can hear it from here, do we need to go back?"
"You don't want to?" Mike shakes his head very slightly,
"Not really," Will leans his head down and lets out a small giggle. All of a sudden, Mike's hand is curled around Will's chin, fingers gently tilting it up until their eyes meet again, "I like being alone with you."
There's something different in both of their eyes now. Something that is far beyond friendship, a deep sense of need that burns hot in their hearts.
Will bites the inside of his cheek, and his hands come to toy with Mike's tie, fingers fiddling around the yellow fabric, "You like it?" Mike asks, looking down at his tie and tampering with it himself, "Mom says I look good in yellow."
"You look good in anything." Mike doesn't roll his eyes or downplay the compliment this time, responding by clutching onto Will's hips and dragging him slightly closer.
"Oh, really?" Will, still fingering the seams of Mike's tie, starts swaying back and forth the the song. Mike follows his lead.
"Don't act like you don't know it."
"Maybe you should tell me more often." Mike licks his lips slowly. He thinks his heart is racing, but it's hard to tell because of the woozy feeling he's getting from multiple different things right now. Obviously, the alcohol, but Will tugging on Mike's tie might be even more of a factor.
"You don't need me to feed your ego."
"I need you a lot more than you know."
The song is building and vibrating in Mike's ears, and he feels his tie tugging slightly, pulling him down to Will. He pulls Will's hips towards him, their bodies slowly pushing into each other, and their faces are dangerously close now, so close that Mike can feel Will's breath on his cheek.
"Then show it." Will murmurs, eyes locked on Mike's lips.
As the music swells, his hands dart to grasp Will's head firmly and press Will's lips to his. Upon impact, a groan escapes Will's mouth and enters Mike's, the sound making Mike's hands tighten around Will's perfect locks.
Their mouths move against each other and let themselves indulge in this moment, even though they both know it's wrong. This feels right, undeniably so, their lips feeling so warm against each other, Mike's hands trailing all the way down Will's spine.
The harsh air hits Mike's face like a freight truck when Will abruptly pulls away,
"Fuck, wait," He lets go of Mike's tie and brings his hands up to his hair, grasping handfuls in stress,
"I-I can't do this to Carlton, I'm not a cheater, this is- this is-"
"Do you love him?" Mike interrupts, a growl entering his tone. He doesn't mean it to come out in such a way, but he can't help it when he's so close to getting what he wants.
"I..." Will is unable to make eye contact, staring at the ground, hand scratching the back of his neck anxiously. Mike can't stand it when Will won't look at him.
"I don't think you do."
"No, what! I-I do, he's-he's great." Mike's palm falls onto Will's cheek, brushing his thumb across it softly. This makes him look up.
"If you really loved him, you wouldn't have let me kiss you." Will's mouth opens slightly to retort, coming up empty-handed with nothing to say. Mike's other hand comes up to cup Will's face, "Right?"
"Mike..." Will's hands come up to hold Mike's wrists with the intention of pulling them away, unable to commit, and just holding onto them tightly.
"Just say you don't want me, and I'll let go. We can forget this ever happened, but you'll have to honestly tell me that you don't want this." Mike's thumbs are sweeping lovingly over Will's face, tracing circles around his freckled skin. The look in his eyes is obvious; he doesn't want to let Mike go, admitting it is the hard part.
Mike raises his eyebrows, asking for an answer, which comes abruptly in the form of Will's mouth coming up to meet his once more. Mike welcomes his touch, reciprocating while gently grasping Will between his hands.
Will's lips are soft and pillowy, exactly how Mike had always imagined them to feel, the sensation dangerously addicting. The kissing slows down, and Mike gets one final dose of Will before he pulls away, still buzzing with adrenaline. Will looks gorgeous cupped between Mike's fingers, looking up at him from below, face sincere and genuine, and Mike can't help but smirk.
"You know what I think?" His voice is gravely, brushing stray hairs away from Will's parted lips, "I think that you should ditch Carlton, and come back to mine tonight."
"Now?" Will murmurs, the eagerness slipping through his tone and actions as his hands bunch around Mike's shirt under his blazer.
"I mean, do you wanna stay any longer?"
"Depends on how long you can wait." Will's eyes are innocent, but nothing about his words reflects the sentiment of his face.
"Not long." Mike bites his lip and takes the chance to look Will up and down, his skin now covered in a sheer layer of sweat that makes him glow under the low light, "I'll pay for our cab, we should leave. Now."
"You don't have to do that..." Mike would do anything to get Will all to himself right now, so yeah, he kinda does. Mike leans down, almost kissing Will as their lips slightly brush,
"Shut up, let's go." Will nods and presses a quick kiss to Mike before running off to grab his blazer, leaving the boy wanting much more. They both take a moment to fix their hair and tidy their clothes so they don't appear to have just been making out in the room.
Mike waits by the door, holding a hand out for Will's taking, who slots his fingers between Mike's, and they both scurry out into the main area. Mike's grip is tight on Will, the taste of his lips still lingering on Mike's mouth and driving him forward through the crowds as quickly as possible.
They reach the car park and find the area where the taxis are situated, slipping their hands apart when Mike opens the door for Will, a swooping gesture urging Will inside. With one foot in the door, Mike presses lightly on Will's back to help him in before sliding into his seat himself and shutting the door behind them,
"1224 Maple Street, thanks." Mike directs, earning a nod from the driver before they zoom off. The boys buckle up in the backseat. They seem so far apart now, and Mike wishes he could just lean in and feel Will close to him again.
Mike subtly brings his hand to graze and fiddle with the fabric of Will's pants beside his thigh, starting blankly ahead when Will turns to look at Mike. He can see a small smile form out of the corner of his eye before Will readjusts and shuffles ever-so-slightly closer to Mike before crossing his arms and looking out the window.
Mike's fingers trail up, and soon his whole palm is resting on Will's thigh, fingers skimming the fabric while curling in and out. He slips his hand a little further inward, earning a small gasp out of the boy.
"You good?" Mike says, acting as if nothing could possibly be wrong right now, while skating his hand upwards further and further until his pinky finger hits the edge of Will's crotch. He nods quickly, refusing to make eye contact. Mike just smirks and lets his thumb dance over the blue fabric.
After an achingly long amount of time, the taxi finally pulls over outside of Mike's house, and Mike gives a quick squeeze before Will thanks the driver and exits the cab. Mike pulls a bill out of his wallet and hands it to the driver, and hops out too.
"Where's your parents' car?" Will asks questioningly, and he's got a point. Their car is nowhere to be seen in the driveway. Mike didn't think they were going out anywhere tonight, though.
"Dunno." They reach the door, and he fumbles for his keys, slotting the right one in the lock and pushing the door forward to let Will in first, following close and shutting it behind him.
"Whoa, I haven't seen this place in a while." Will spins around, taking in all the decor that has since replaced the old stuff he was used to seeing. He spots a small photo of Mike from middle school and charges towards it, giggling before holding it up next to his face and opening his mouth in a smile, "Look at how cute you are!"
"Yeah, yeah, funny childhood pictures, whatever." Mike takes the photo out of Will's hands and places it back on the mantle, "Need anything to eat or drink? We've got a bunch of snacks."
"Maybe just some water."
"Water? Cool." Mike trails into the kitchen and is retrieving a glass when he hears Will reading a note left on the counter.
"Hey, have a look at this." He says while reading through the page. Mike finishes filling up the glass and comes up behind Will, placing the glass down on the counter before flopping his arms around his waist and peering over his shoulder to read the writing.
'Mike,
We got a call from Nana in Ohio, and she's incredibly ill. We are off visiting her now, we won't be back for a few days and will call if anything changes.
Sorry to leave you alone!
Love, Mom'
"House to ourselves, I guess," Will says, setting the note down and flipping around, and sending Mike's arms to prop himself up on either side of Will on the counter. Picking up the glass of water, he sips, the light slurping sound piercing the air. Mike watches.
"Yeah, you all to myself." After Will sets the glass down, Mike leans forward and softly kisses him once, the remaining water transferring to Mike's lips as their legs bump against each other, "Come on, let's go to my room." Mike stands back up, positively bursting to get Will into his bed.
"Somebody's eager," Will grins at the countertop for a moment, testing Mike's patience before gradually standing up and wrapping his arm around the other boy's, "Lead the way."
Mike doesn't hesitate and takes Will upstairs, past Nancy's room, past the bathroom, and into his own. Will lets go of his arm and takes a moment to look at everything around the room.
"God, it's hot in here." Will pulls his blazer off and hands it to Mike, who shuts the door, hanging his and Will's blazers up subsequently on two hooks. He also takes the chance to rid his neck of his tie, unbuttoning a few of the top buttons and fixing his collar.
Will observes everything old and new, recognisable and unfamiliar, underneath the soft light of a small lamp beside Mike's bed. His eyes fall upon the painting, the one that Mike has had pinned up beside his bed since he got back from California.
"No way!" He exclaims, rushing over to stroke his fingers fondly over the two-dimensional versions of their characters, "You still have this?"
"Obviously, why wouldn't I? It's the best gift I've ever gotten."
"Really?" Will's voice sounds so happy, Mike could explode hearing him.
"Yeah, you put so much thought into it." Will turns and looks at Mike, eyes a little wide and cheeks flushed, "Oh, yeah, I know El didn't commission it."
"Oh." Will nervously scratches the back of his neck, sitting down cautiously on the edge of Mike's bed. Mike joins him. Their knees and elbows bump.
"That's why I love it so much, I just don't get why you lied about it."
"I, um, wanted to help you and El. It seemed a bit rocky at the time, and I thought that it would be a good way to, you know, lift you two up," Will shrugs smally, "I don't know."
"I get that." Mike's hand intertwines with Will's to try to provide some comfort to his shaky condition: "You've always been too kind for your own good; it's actually impressive." Will chuckles slightly in response, nerves dissipating with a look at Mike's eyes, then lips, then back up again.
"Shut up." Will jokes under his breath, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Mike lets out a small laugh before leaning towards Will,
"I'm not wrong, you just can't help being a sweetheart to everyone."
"Mike..." He sees red flushing to Will's cheeks. His lips are so close to Will's, it seems unbearable to hold back now, but he wants to let Will take him this time.
"How many times do I have to compliment you until you kiss me again?" Mike mumbles, and he must have said just the right amount because Will smiles and finally closes the distance between their mouths.
Will's fingers clasp onto Mike's chin gently, pulling it down to make up for the height difference. The plushness of Will's lips makes them easy to wrap Mike's own mouth around, their perfect symmetrical shape slotting between Mike's lips amazingly.
"Lie down for me, baby," Mike growls, having to draw away for a moment. Will obliges immediately, shuffling to let his head fall on Mike's pillows, arms bent above his head. Mike settles himself between Will's spread legs, his head diving below Will's jaw and sucking the supple skin.
"Ugh, Mike..." Will groans out, voice raspy and hand pulling on Mike's hair as his mouth works away at the smooth crevices.
"You like it when I call you that?" He says into Will's neck, biting down gently this time, causing Will's neck to arch back with a gasp.
"Fuck, you can call me anything you want, Mike." Mike groans into Will's neck at this, feeling it vibrate beneath his face. He nibbles away, leaving bruises dotted all around Will's neck and collarbone. He lifts himself up and admires the marks he made, purple and red all over, "How does it look?"
"You're beautiful."
"That's not what I asked."
"I mean it." Mike's eyes drag down the unmarked, bare skin peeking out from Will's shirt, one hand beginning to fiddle with the buttons, "Are you still hot? Temperature-wise?"
"Just say you want my shirt off."
"I want your shirt off."
"Then take it off." Mike's fingers have never had the kind of agility that they magically possess in this moment, furiously undoing each button until they're all loose and throwing the shirt on the floor. His hand splays out over Will's now-exposed stomach, admiring the new area of Will that he's never gotten the privilege to see before.
Will pulls Mike towards him by the collar, and slowly starts unbuttoning Mike's shirt too, without spoken permission, the look they share saying perfectly enough.
"Any slower?" Mike grows increasingly impatient, aching to feel his bare skin on Will's, but the boy just chuckles as he gets to the final few notches, yanking the bottom of the shirt out from under Mike's pants.
"Fuck my life, this shirt has so many fucking buttons." The shirt comes fully undone, "Finally," and Mike shrugs it off through bubbly laughter. He lies back down on top of Will, skin pressing on skin, adding a totally new layer to their intimacy.
Will's hands scuff through Mike's hair, making it undeniably messy, and it'll be bitch to brush through the next day, but all Mike can think about is the feeling of Will. He's bare and beneath him, chest heaving with his breathing. Will clouds Mike's judgement ridiculously, his hands becoming greedy as they try to feel every single centimetre of Will's skin, unable to get enough.
They scour the entire surface of Will's front, following each curve down and up like rolling hills. One hand becomes too greedy, too brave, sneaking over the top of Will's pants and on top of his crotch, feeling the obvious bulge.
Will gasps into Mike's mouth, his body freezing in place as Mike's hand gently squeezes. Mike stops kissing Will and pulls back to watch his face; his eyelids are dropped down, and his mouth is still lying open, eyebrows tilted outwards and begging,
"You want me to make you feel good?" Will nods almost unnoticably; it's not enough for Mike. His hand strokes up and settles just above Will's waistband, fingers dipping slightly underneath, "Sorry, I can't hear you."
"Yes- fuck, Mike, I need you." He groans into Mike's ear, fingers gripping Mike's neck.
"Yeah, baby?" Mike mumbles, fingers finding the button on Will's pants and teasing it open, leaving only the zipper holding the pants on.
"Mike, please." The sound of the zipper coming undone emanates through the room, the audibility of the sound only contested by the heavy breathing of both boys. Mike can feel Will underneath his boxers, hard and pulsing.
"Pants on or off?"
"Off."
"Lift your hips." Mike sits up and adjusts his legs so that both are on one side of Will's body, holding the waistband and rolling it down to reveal stretched white boxers with simple black branding. He yanks the rest of the pants off by the legs, and they join their rightful place on the floor next to the rest of their discarded clothing.
"Yours, too." Mike raises his eyebrows before quickly getting up and undoing his own. Will's knees come up as Mike does this, hands tossing around his own hair lazily, readjusting it to fall just right over his forehead. Mike's pants fall to the floor, making Will sit up slightly on his forearms.
Mike returns to Will, lying beside him, his stomach and chest pressing into Will's warm side. He tilts his head down and presses his open mouth to Will's, tongue daring to slip inside. Will returns the favour, his tongue swirling wildly around Mike's. The sounds of sloppy kisses fill the room, both of their mouths getting progressively wetter.
Mike presses a hand to Will's thigh closest to him, which makes Will instinctively separate his legs to make room as Mike's hand snakes up and under the boxers. As Mike holds onto Will beneath the fabric, he begins to get a feel for the size,
"Will, you're fucking huge." Will can't muster a reply with Mike's hand stroking down him, only letting out a soft whine. Before he can get too carried away, Mike quickly hooks his thumb around the boxers and pulls them down until Will's length springs out and falls onto his lower stomach.
Just the sight of it makes Mike's mouth flood with saliva, swallowing hard before wrapping his fingers around Will once more. It's almost intimidating, considering Mike's only been this intimate with himself, but Will melts so perfectly into his touch that Mike just follows what feels right.
He thumbs over the tip, spreading precum down and making Will twitch at his touch, "So sensitive..." His hand pumps up and down, the sound of gentle slapping and groaning overwhelming Mike's senses.
As his sweet moans grow louder, Will's eyes are rolled so far into his head that there's only white visible, head tilted back into his pillow so Mike can barely see past his jaw. He moves his arm faster and faster, desperate to hear Will cry out for him,
"Oh Mike, fuck, don't stop- I'm really close." Will's eyes squeeze tight, and his mouth falls open wide to produce loud gasping, driving Mike to pump down harder, "Miiike, please,"
"It's okay, sweetheart, I've got you right here, I'm right here." With that, Will's fingernails find Mike's back and dig roughly into it as he gasps and climaxes and spills onto Mike, coating Mike's fingers with him, "Good job, baby."
As Mike slowly strokes a heaving Will back to reality, he peppers small kisses along Will's exposed jaw with care, tasting fresh sweat as he does so and savouring the flavour. After a while, Will's eyes flutter open, and his head looks down at the mess he's made all over the sheets, himself, and Mike.
"Shit, sorry-"
"I'll clean you up, don't worry." Will sighs and leans back, eyes drifting to Mike's lips, which come and meet Will's softly for a moment. It's a stark contrast to seconds before, but a perfect reminder of how gentle the two boys actually are, "Hold on, let me find a towel and some new clothes for you." Will nods, and Mike gives one last teasing stroke up before slipping off of Will and rolling off the bed.
"So mean." Will groans out as Mike gets up, grinning cheesily, and heads towards the laundry cabinet.
After washing his hands, Mike returns to find Will in the same vulnerable position, one hand lying over his exposed crotch and the other above his head. He notices the towel in Mike's hand and opens up to let him gently wipe away at anything left before using it on Will's hands, the towel being tossed on the floor after.
Mike pulls the duvet up over Will, who curls underneath and tucks his mouth and chin shyly under the blanket. His big eyes follow Mike around the room as he pulls out two large t-shirts and a new pair of boxers. He throws on one of the shirts and ambles back over to bed to hand the other two items of clothing over, "Hopefully these fit."
Will takes the clothes gently from Mike, "Thank you." He says sincerely, swapping out his boxers under the covers and placing the used ones carefully on top of the discarded towel. He carefully slips the gigantic t-shirt over his tiny head.
"Jesus, you're swimming in it." Mike chuckles, turning the lamp off before lying back down beside Will and wrapping him close. Will's head eventually settles in the crook of Mike's neck, soft breathing tingling on his skin, leg wedged between Mike's. Mike attempts to discern all of Will's features with the room plunged into darkness, each shadow telling him a curve or small detail that altogether form the boy he's holding close to his heart.
"I missed you, you know," Mike says softly while brushing his fingers in circles on Will's shoulder.
"I missed you, too." Mike's heart warms.
"I wish we could've done this earlier. I mean, realised what we could be. I think we both love- uh, liked each other at the wrong time or something."
"I've never stopped loving you." Who knew such a simple mumbled statement could mean so much? Mike lets a dopey smile tug at his cheeks, dopamine rushing into his system like steroids.
"Not even with Carlton?" Will's laughter huffs into Mike's neck, warm and comforting, just like Will.
"Not even close."
"Good."
"Good."
Sleep takes over both of them, absolutely spent from the long night of partying and drinking and other festive activities, curled up to each other like this was always meant to be and always shall be every day onwards. In this moment, away from the world, they feel untouchable and intimate. It's dawned on Mike that he didn't need to look any further for the kind of love he'd observe around him daily, like Lucas and Max's;
He already had it right here under his nose, in his arms, deep inside his bones, his arms holding tight around his living, loving light. A story with a happy ending.